


Later is a Word

by chalametsberm



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M, POV Oliver (Call Me By Your Name)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalametsberm/pseuds/chalametsberm
Summary: The volleyball scene and dinner scene from Oliver's POV. If people think I did Oliver justice, I will write more.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the perfect time to test the waters. Oliver laughed to himself. He really did think he was a comedic genius when he tried hard enough. They were all hanging out outside on the grass and having a good time. Things were fun, relaxed. Oliver could easily interact with Elio and see how he responded. It would be easy. Everyone was in their bathing suits and rubbing sunscreen all over each other, sharing food and water, and the occasional playful shove. This would be a perfect time. 

They were taking a break in the game. Chiara was all over him, touching him on the shoulder every time she doubled over in laughter and grabbing his hand whenever she wanted him to move around on the court between serves. Oliver wished it could be this easy to read Elio. He saw Elio with what looked like an apricot and a huge bottle of water and seized his chance. Elio was leaning down to give the water to his cousin that was sitting on one of the grassy knolls, but Oliver swooped in just in time. 

“Ah, thank you.” Oliver gripped Elio’s shoulder. Elio immediately recoiled. Shit. Oliver didn’t know how he would come back from this, so he took the water and took a long sip, trying to think of what to say. He thought that maybe, just maybe, for a moment, Elio might have leaned into his touch. That maybe he was asking for more but didn’t know how to say it. 

Oliver poured some water on his hands and ran them through his hair. He could hear Chiara calling for him, he was running out of time to make light of the situation.

“Did I pinch a nerve or something?” 

Elio just shook his head, scrunching up his face like he was hiding something. Elio had such a clear face, that gave away everything he was feeling and nothing at all. It was infuriating and also so, so, endearing. Oliver wanted to learn what every single micro-expression that crossed his face meant. He wanted to know what made Elio crinkle his nose or furrow his brow. What face Elio made when he was working on a really hard part of his piano music. Oliver hoped for more, too, he hoped to see expressions that no one else would see. Private ones, but he couldn’t even dare hope for that. 

Oliver decided to perform an experiment. How would he react if it was a girl that was massaging him, and not Oliver, who undeniably was a man? There was nothing androgynous about him, and that had never bothered him before this summer. He wished that he could be someone of attraction to Elio, even if it was just based on uncertainty alone. He wanted to be beautiful to Elio and confusing to him, but it seemed like he was only a thorn in his side. 

“Marzia, come here, feel this.” Oliver guided Marzia’s hand to the biggest knot in Elio’s shoulder. He really was tense, but there was no reason to be. School was out for the summer, and all he had to do was relax. Maybe he was just bad at relaxing. The one thing that Oliver had not considered was that he wouldn’t be able to see Elio’s face when Marzia put her dainty hand on his shoulder. When he lifted his hands off and it was Marzia’s, Elio seemed to relax. That was all the confirmation he needed. It stung for a second, and then he heard a chorus of people calling for him to come back to the court. 

“Later!” Cheerful enough goodbye, he thought. He didn’t know if he would be able to say more without baring his soul, and he was not ready for that. While he jogged off, he heard Marzia talking to Elio. 

She was parroting him. “You should relax, Elio.” Oliver turned to get the ball and saw that Elio was making an angry, confused face at her, and then literally ran away. He hopped over the small ravine and disappeared from sight. Oliver considered leaving. The reason that he was there was he knew that this is what Elio did sometimes in the summer, laze around with friends. Now that Elio was gone and had rejected him in less than five minutes, it seemed pointless to stick around. 

Oliver did, though. He felt he owed it to Chiara, who kept trying to appease him like she could tell that something was wrong once Elio had left. It was clear she didn’t know what had changed to affect Oliver’s mood, but she was doing everything she could to bring it back up to the cheery, happy and boisterous “American” he was. He didn’t know if he was ever that, but it was a part he was willing to play. After the game ended, he made an excuse that he had to get ready for dinner, he didn’t want to let down the family he was staying with so early in his stay. He knew that Mafalda worked hard on the meals, and he did not want to get on her bad side. 

After showering and putting on dressier clothes, he started to head down to the table. Mafalda saw that he was going the wrong way, and pointed him in the right direction from the kitchen. Oliver nodded in thanks and walked towards the table. He heard Elio talking, right away. He wasn’t very good at Italian, but it was clear they were talking about him. 

“Non vi sembra ineducato come dice “Later...”? arrogante?” Oliver knew some Italian, but the thing that stuck out to him the most was the ‘later’. It had always been his go-to when he didn’t know how to end the conversation, how to leave with grace and politeness. 

He decided to wait and see how the others would react. He saw that Mr. and Mrs. Perlman were sitting at the table, along with other family members he didn’t recognize. 

“I think he’s shy.” That was Mr. Perlman. He scoffed and recoiled. He didn’t realize how easily read he was and it threw him off balance. 

“Just wait, this is how he’ll say goodbye to us when the time comes,” Elio took a long pause and put on a different, cockier air. “Later!” Elio was putting on a show. Elio was mocking him, and the only person coming to his defense was Mr. Perlman, who insulted his very character. Oliver decided that he didn’t need to eat. He had had a large breakfast, and he didn’t particularly feel like eating with people that couldn’t stand his mannerisms. 

He walked briskly back to the kitchen. He decided to tell Mafalda, catch her on the way out to serving food. When he coughed, she jumped. He had clearly scared her. “Mafalda, non sarò con voi a cena stasera, I won’t be at dinner tonight.” 

If the volleyball game hadn’t confirmed it, then what he had overheard did. He figured he could use this time to call the states and tell his parents he was still alive. He dreaded this conversation as much as he dreaded every conversation with his parents, but citing long distance as a way to end the phone call was an incredible relief. 

Oliver walked over to the living room by the fireplace, and started dialing. His father answered. He was pleased that at least he wouldn’t be hiding anything from the patriarch of his family when he said that the son and him were getting along, but mostly he was working. He was never good at lying to his parents, they always saw right through him. When Oliver had taken an interest in the bag boy at the grocery store in high school, his parents saw to it that they never went to the store again. And, if they did, they certainly never took Oliver. 

“Hi, dad.” 

“Bonjourno!” His dad was tickled pink that he was studying in Italy, something that surprised Oliver, but he didn’t think about it too much. 

“I just wanted to call and tell you that I’m still very much alive.” 

“Are you getting work done?” He didn’t expect his father to ask him if he was enjoying himself. That was something that his mother would sometimes allow herself to ask, but that was rare. 

“Yes, I am getting work done. This is a very nice place to read over manuscripts and learn from the best professors.” 

“Are they feeding you there?” Ah, the sweet irony that he was missing dinner to have this phone call. His father didn’t need to know that because then he would want to know why Oliver was missing dinner, and that was something that he did not want to go into. 

“Yeah, listen, dad, I gotta go. Tell mom I say hi?” 

Oliver didn’t listen to his dad’s reply. He hung up the phone and walked up to his room. He just wanted to lay down. He really wanted weed, but he figured he should hold off and not do that in the first week that he was staying with the Perlmans. He went to lay down and eventually drifted off. His last thought before falling asleep was that he was going to do his best to leave Elio alone. That was clearly what Elio wanted, and he didn’t love being picked on for how he acted and behaved. He had years of practicing a persona and he wasn’t about to change that for anyone, even the disgustingly cute and intellectual boy that was sleeping in the room next to him for six weeks. He was never going to change, and that was that.


	2. Oliver Goes Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dancing scene from Oliver's POV. I'm going to keep these fairly short and hopefully do more.

Oliver didn’t know if Elio was mad at him. He didn’t want to think about it too much because he was dealing with what he had dubbed in his head as the “Chiara Situation.” He heard Mafalda brandishing Chiara for liking him, and that confirmed his fears. This weird thing they were doing felt real to her, and he had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t want to hurt her, but everything was so mixed up in his head that he worried that someone was going to have to get hurt. Even though Elio hadn’t given him any signs that he even liked Oliver as a person, but that was too much to think about. 

Elio was thrown off when Oliver had called his genuine compliment “kind,” he thought maybe he shouldn’t have shown so much of his pain in the word. He thought that maybe if he threw himself into the pool then it would seem light. After breaking the surface of the water, he realized it just made him seem even more dramatic than just saying what he had said. 

Oliver hated that he sought Elio’s approval more than he even sought Professor Perlman’s. Over the days, he had tried to convince himself that wasn’t the case, but it turns out that distance really does make the heart grow fonder. He had wasted away his days with his nose in his books, making lengthy and unnecessary trips to the translator’s office, and sorting more files than ever expected for Pro. Oliver considered never saying “later” again. He thought that would be too obvious, though. It was a thing that Mrs. Perlman- no- Annella had picked up and started saying, and if he stopped now, it might make it apparent that he had overheard their conversation.

Now Oliver was finding himself doing something that he forgot he hated right up until the moment he was doing it: dancing. He would always get too drunk or too handsy to forget whatever was going on in his life, but usually, the thing that was bothering him would be somewhere else, somewhere that he would not have to think about. Now though, it was literally right in front of him. It was right in front of him and it was looking too good smoking a cigarette and pulling the “cool guy” move of watching from the sidelines. Oliver wished he could watch from the sidelines, he was pulled onto the dance floor by Chiara, and for a moment, he hoped that this might make Elio jealous. That was quickly dashed though because he saw that Marzia was up close and personal and whispering in his ear. 

Oliver wondered selfishly if the table full of Elio’s friends were asking Elio about him. He didn’t think it was possible, but there was a glimmer of hope that he was something worth mentioning. They were probably asking if he and Chiara had taken things to the next level. He didn’t think he ever would. Chiara was a safety net, she reminded him of someone at home that he would go back to after a particularly hard class or a bad day of writing, or when he just felt like he couldn’t do anything right. Elio felt like the first right thing he had ever encountered, but he wasn’t the right thing for Elio. He knew himself too well, and he didn’t ever end things well with anyone, even if he truly cared about them. That was what made his desire even worse. He wanted so badly to just tell Elio how he felt and how every little thing he did drove him absolutely mad, but he couldn’t. 

He realized that he had been closing his eyes and thinking, and when he looked up, he saw a blue striped shirt swaying and dancing in perfect rhythm. Of course, Elio was a great dancer. He was good at everything, it just made sense that he also made this look sexy. And who was he dancing with? Oliver turned Chiara who was basically attached to him a little bit to see. It was Marzia. 

That was when he went in for the second kiss with Chiara. Damn, Elio looked so happy, so content. Oliver knew that this was not someone that he could make that happy, but god did he want to. Finally, Chiara went to dance with Marzia and Oliver was alone. Normally, he couldn’t stand being alone, even if it was in a group, but now, he was happy. And a great song by the Psychedelic Furs was playing, so he had no complaints. No complaints until he looked over and saw that Marzia and Elio were gone. And they were the only ones gone. That hit him hard. He wanted to go home. He also desperately didn’t want to go home, because if he did, then his worst fears could be confirmed. If Elio wasn’t home, that means he had gone somewhere with Marzia. 

So he wandered. He went to the Piazzetta and didn’t buy anything, he wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want anything, he felt numb. He hated that he knew exactly what he wanted but didn’t have a way to go for it, or even express himself. He went to the villa angry and didn’t want to fall asleep, so he went to sit by the tree that he had found a home in the past couple of nights. He saw Elio come home, basically skipping once he got off his bicycle. Oliver shook his head. He wanted to get to his room before Elio did, so he used the other staircase, and made sure not to make any noise. He was fine with Elio assuming whatever he wanted to about what he had done with his night, but at the same time, his bigger fear was that Elio simply didn’t care. 

Then at breakfast, it happened. Well, two things happened, one being far more monumental than the other. Oliver finally opened an egg without making a huge mess, and Elio admitted to not having gone all the way with Marzia. It drove Oliver insane. Why was he saying this? Why did everything Elio said seem like a challenge? It was as if he was trying to compete with Oliver for his father’s approval. That didn’t make any sense. Surely, Elio already had his father’s approval, and it wasn’t like Oliver was also in the family. He sometimes wished he was, though. It seemed like sometimes, when he paid enough attention, Professor Perlman talked to him as though he were his son, or, at the very least, his son-in-law. 

When he heard Chiara’s bike bell and her bike approaching, he decided he would fight fire with fire. He heard Elio and Chiara speaking French and was jealous of the different worlds that Elio could occupy with the different languages he spoke. Oliver was stuck in one, and sometimes could understand snippets of Italian here and there, but he was, by all accounts, a tourist in the Perlman’s way of life. He was walking out and saw Chiara. He knew they were going out of town and would be gone all day, so he allowed himself to be showy and flirty with Chiara. He wouldn’t have to pay for it in follow up with her, at least not that night. Whatever Elio assumed or didn’t assume from his chaste kiss on her cheek was up to him. Then, 

When they went to go see the statue, that is when things took an uptick. Oliver lashed out at Elio, but then, sitting in the front seat, he was kicking himself. He had given up the opportunity to test the waters again, to see if Elio’s thigh might touch his if he would lean into the contact like Oliver was so sure he had that day at volleyball, even if it was just for a brief second. 

He was kicking himself when they were walking and Elio was walking so far behind them. He wished that he could see what Elio was doing, what he was thinking, what his face was showing. He was barely listening to Professor Perlman and the other man that had met them at the car. He felt terrible. This was the reason he was there, not to fall in stupid crush love with his son. His son! Oliver had really gotten himself into a predicament. It was when he was holding the arm that everything changed. He got one word from Elio that made him feel like he was flying. 

“Tregua?” 

Oliver knew enough Italian to know that this meant truce. He was happy that Elio felt like there was something to be resolved. It was probably because he had snapped at him in the car. That was something that he didn’t expect, but also now didn’t regret. He could tell that Elio’s father could sense the tension in the car between them, and decided not to comment, which was a small relief. While he was thinking about this, it probably looked as though he was considering a truce and whether or not it was worth it. He put out the statue’s hand, and Elio shook it. This was the closest that they would ever get, there was always something in the way, it seemed. 

Oliver found peace in the boat on the way to see the statue. When it was brought onto shore, he had to stop himself from seeing the similarities between it and Elio. The beautiful and complex face, the perfect symmetry, the lips that just longed to be kissed. Oliver knew that he would never be able to kiss Elio, he would never allow himself the risk of trying to reach out and touch. He hated stealing Elio’s words, but it felt fitting. If Elio only knew it was much more than just finding the courage. It was keeping it, and not drowning in regret that lasted for much longer than the tryst ever would. Oliver settled on tracing the statues lip’s while Elio examined the rest of the body. It was as if he was having an out of body experience and needed to find himself again. Elio had been existing just as a soul, and they finally found his body in the water, and they were reunited again. 

Then, they were swimming. It felt like coming home. He loved being with Elio and realized that he was going to just start appreciating small moments like this, just in case he never got bigger ones. No, when he never got bigger ones. They were screaming, they were splashing in the water, and there was nothing to worry about. 

Oliver offered to drive home because he didn’t want to deal with the tension of if he was going to sit in the back seat or not. He didn’t want Elio to take offense, or to be weirded out. There was no winning except by driving. He was tired, but there would be work to do when they got back. When he pulled them up to the villa, Elio rushed out and grabbed his bike. Mr. Perlman laughed at this, asking Oliver if he also had somewhere to go. He didn’t, he knew that Elio was going to meet Marzia and seal the deal, he was going to reach out and touch, and that just meant that Oliver was going to bury his head in the books. That was the nail in the proverbial coffin. Elio had chosen Marzia over him. Oliver didn’t care that Elio didn’t necessarily know that he was choosing, or even presented with a choice. Elio’s decision was clear. Oliver also decided that he was going to keep to himself and focus all of his energy on the book he was there to write. He would pass Elio in the hall and interact with him, but it would hurt. He was not ready to deal with the hurt. A shield went up, and Oliver was going to make sure it would never come down. Not for Chiara, not for Annella, not for Professor Perlman, and certainly not for Elio. He couldn’t afford that. 

Things would be the same, but they would be different. Oliver was going to settle into his new routine, and he would make things work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmk if you have a specific scene you want. i have some in mind, but i love hearing thoughts 
> 
> my tumblr is @/lilchalamet in case you want to pop over there


	3. You Know What Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confession Scene and Monet's Berm :)

This was all Oliver’s fault. He had been the one to ask Elio to go to town with him. He had been the one to suggest that they go together. If he had never said that, this would never be a problem. They biked together in silence, enjoying each other’s company, and it was when they reached the war memorial that things got tricky. Oliver bought a pack of cigarettes with ulterior motives. He knew that Elio would ask for one, and he wanted to be able to get that close to his face to light it for him. Elio called him out on it because of course, he did. He saw everything. Elio was one of the smartest people he had ever met. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

Oliver decided to play coy. “I don’t.” But the words sounded more like I want to have things in common with you. If it’s smoking that we will ever bond over than I will love smoking until the day I die. Every cigarette will remind me of you. I’ll keep this very pack of cigarettes and remember that we had this time together. Instead, he carried on by looking at the memorial. “World War II, huh? I didn’t know they fought here.”

“World War I, actually. One of the deadliest battles of the war. You would have to be at least eighty to know anyone that died here.” 

Oliver had an irrational thought pop into his head. He wanted to know Elio when he was eighty. He wanted to build a statue celebrating every single curve and bump and bone of Elio’s body. He was staring at him, but they were apart. They had naturally separated around the memorial, but they were still talking. It shocked Oliver to realize why he loved the statue that was dredged out of the water so much. It looked like Elio. Oliver wanted to challenge Elio. 

“Is there anything that you don’t know?”

“I know nothing, Oliver.”

Oh god. Oliver closed his eyes. There was something about the way that Elio said his name that was intoxicating. Is this where things were going? Was Elio about to tell Oliver something? Oliver didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be a good person, but he didn’t know if he was cut out for that role. He didn’t know if he could be that good person without acting on his feelings, and that felt wrong. He couldn’t be the one that initiated. 

He deflected. “It seems like you know more than anyone else here.” Here, in this town, for Oliver also meant in his life. He thought that Elio and his family knew more about who he was as a person than his family did. Elio was embedded in the fabric of his being. He was in his memories, in his childhood, in who he was as a person. 

“If only you knew how little I knew about the things that matter.”

“What things?” If Elio was going to go there, then Oliver was going to rip off the Band-Aid. He wasn’t allowed to waltz his way into this without giving an explanation. 

“You know what things.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I thought you should know.”

Oliver was seeing stars. He didn’t know how to process this. He felt his walls going back up, but he didn’t make any moves to stop them. He didn’t and couldn’t let himself get hurt. He asked a blunt question because he needed logic. “You thought I should know.” It wasn’t even a question. He couldn’t even form a question he was so overwhelmed. 

“Because I wanted you to know.”

The most sobering sentence of all. Elio wanted him to know. They were walking around the memorial, almost like they were on a track. It was a math problem and there was no way to know if the trains would ever cross paths. There was no way to know if Oliver wanted them to. 

It turned out that they were meant to meet. Oliver decided that he should do what he was actually there to do. But first, he had to clear the air. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Elio just swayed, nodding. He didn’t seem like he knew how to explain without being vague. 

Oliver went to go to the translator’s office. But first, he touched Elio’s chest, trying to comfort him but he didn’t know how. “Don’t go anywhere.” That was Oliver’s I’m here for you and I’m glad you told me. 

Elio replied, “you know I’m not going anywhere.” That sealed the deal. Elio was taking the plunge for the both of them, it seemed. Oliver didn’t say anything because he didn’t feel like he had to. Elio had put the period at the end of the sentence. 

When he walked into the office to see the translator, she was happy, as she always was. She greeted him with a smile and handed him the papers that he needed. He said thank you and as he was walking out, he looked over them. With his basic knowledge of Italian, he knew they were screwed up. It made sense, things were going too well for him lately. He hadn’t had a fork in the road for a while. 

He wanted to change the subject. He felt bad, but it was what he felt he should do. He was sick and tired of operating that way, but it was how he always did. “The translator mixed up the pages. That puts me behind a full day, now I have nothing I can do. Damn it.” Elio, without comment, took the pages from Oliver and put them in his backpack. Then, he saw through Oliver’s bullshit with incredible accuracy. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Oliver should have learned by now to not be surprised by anything that Elio said, but he didn’t expect so much doubt to come from him. He was more confident than this, he thought. He went along with it, pretending it was for Elio’s sake. “I’ll just pretend you never did.” Coming out of Oliver’s mouth, it was a lot harsher than anticipated. 

“So, does that mean we’re on speaking terms but not really?”

Better to speak or die. They were back here. They were back doing this dance that neither one seemed to know they were doing. Oliver felt as though he was dancing with someone that was just trying to move around him in a small hallway, finding meaning in nothing. 

“It just means that we shouldn’t discuss these kinds of things. It wouldn’t be right.” Oliver was resigned to a long day of moping around the villa. He couldn’t really do anything else, his pages really were ruined, putting him behind, and there was nothing he could help Professor Perlman with. His plans were to go to what he thought of as “his tree” and read his book and mosey around until it was time for dinner or to go out. He didn’t want to trick himself into thinking that he could spend the day with Elio. Elio breaking the silence and the tension between them shattered the fine tie that existed between them. Elio could have been right, although Oliver hated to admit it. They were no longer going to be on speaking terms. 

Elio got onto his bike while Oliver was thinking about this and starting biking away, not towards the villa, and Oliver was confused. “Andiamao, Americano!” 

That was his cue. Elio was biking so fast that Oliver didn’t have time to think about what direction they were heading in, just focusing on staying up with him was a challenge enough. They eventually got to what looked like a farmhouse and saw a woman snapping beans. Elio looked at Oliver, panting and worn out from Elio’s seemingly endless energy. “Thirsty?” There was a glint in Elio’s eye that was a challenge. It was like Elio was testing to see if he could afford any more time with Oliver before things were back to normal at the villa. He nodded. Because it was true, he was parched. 

Elio asked the woman in Italian if they could have some water, and she happily obliged. There was something about the small town in Italy that lent itself to having generous and kind people. This was nothing like home. Oliver was glad it wasn’t, though, because if it was, it would make his inevitable return trip harder. If Oliver had to go back knowing he would feel the emotions of Crema in New York, he didn’t know if he would be able to force himself to do that. 

The woman returned with water after Oliver slapped Elio’s hand away for trying to take some of the green beans. Oliver didn’t like how familiar and natural their interaction felt. It was supposed to feel weird, now that they had this conversation. It didn’t, and Oliver didn’t know how he felt. 

They kept biking, and Elio asked Oliver if he wanted to see something. Oliver went against the plan he had made with himself and agreed. They biked to a secluded area by a lake, and it was all so Elio that he was overwhelmed. 

“This is my spot. All mine. I can’t tell you the number of books I’ve read here.” 

Oliver wondered how many other people he had brought to this spot, suddenly feeling jealous of what he couldn’t change, over someone he had no possession over. 

“No tourists know about this place, I’m usually here all alone.” Oliver wondered if Elio could somehow read his thoughts because he was answering the question that Oliver would never ask. 

Oliver took it in, it was really very nice. He thought it would be a great place to paint, to read, to just lay and think. Elio took his mind off this when he heard the splash. He had stepped into the shallow lake. Oliver decided he might as well follow suit. It was freezing. 

“Oh my god, it’s freezing!” 

Elio rattled off something about it being run-off from the mountains, but Oliver didn’t really listen. He mostly listened to the way that Elio said it. He had noticed it earlier, but when he said that, it was the most obvious it had ever been. He was full of self-doubt. Oliver had such a heavy weight on his chest because of that that he needed to say something. He didn’t want to say it to Elio’s face because he wasn’t sure how he would take it. He was nowhere near as eloquent as Elio was. 

He ran his hands through his hair with his back to Elio. “I like the way you say things, I don’t know why you’re always putting yourself down.”  
“So you won’t, I guess.” 

The tone of Elio’s voice was sure. He had added the ‘I guess’ because he was scared. This sentence made Oliver turn around and face Elio. No one had ever cared about his opinion this much without knowing him very well. It was Oliver’s fault that Elio didn’t know him very well, he knew that, but somehow, Elio still cared about him and his opinion. Oliver rationalized that it must be because he was working with his father and seemed like he was someone that Elio needed to impress. 

“You really care about my opinion that much?” Oliver hoped that this didn’t sound angry, but he didn’t know how to sound confused without sounding angry. He hated being confused, he hated not having answers that he could nail down. 

Elio didn’t answer. He didn’t answer with words, anyway. Instead, he challenged with a look. Oliver could have taken this as nothing, but then Elio stepped closer to Oliver, closing the distance between them. Oliver gave Elio’s shoulder a light shove, an excuse to touch, to satisfy that need. “You’re making things very difficult for me, you know.” A plea for Elio to keep pushing him. To convince Oliver that this was really what he wanted. Even though his life with Marzia would have been so much easier. To say, ‘yes Oliver, I want it to be you, and just you with me in my special place. I didn’t take you here by accident.’ 

Elio, instead, leaped on his back and played around with him. That would do. For now, at least. 

Later, they were laying on the grass, drying off and taking in the sun. It truly was a great spot, Elio had good taste. Oliver reached up to itch his leg, mostly to remind himself and Elio where they were, that neither of them was alone. Elio was the one that finally broke the silence. 

“I love this, Oliver.” 

God, hearing Elio say his name sends chills down his spine. He didn’t want to let it go to his head, he needed specifics. He figured that in Elio’s spot he would be able to get them. There must have been a reason that Elio brought him there. 

“What?” Oliver wanted it to sound neutral, but he knew it didn’t. It sounded too hopeful, even to his ears. 

Elio just sighed, “everything.” 

That wasn’t good enough. Oliver decided that he had to be the one to press Elio for a direct answer. “Us, you mean?” Oliver didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out after Elio replied. 

“Eh, it’s alright.” 

This was Oliver’s time. He got up on his leg and looked down at Elio, once again amazed at how much he looked like the statue that was dredged up. Without thinking, he did the same thing he had done to the statue and traced Elio’s bottom lip with his finger. Elio opened his mouth and licked Oliver’s finger. Oliver traced the sharp curve of Elio’s jaw, just taking in his profile until he turned Elio’s head towards him. If he was only going to be able to kiss him once, he needed to appreciate it. He was only going to let this happen once. He was surprised that he had had this much willpower up until then, but that was mostly because he was sure Elio didn’t want him back. Now, he was less sure. 

Elio melted like putty into Oliver’s palm. He turned his head towards Oliver and raised it so they were face to face. They were on equal ground, Oliver was no longer towering over Elio. Oliver panicked. He didn’t know if he should go for it or not, but it was too late to back down. He started to lean in, and thankfully, so did Elio. Until Elio stopped. Oliver’s heart nearly stopped. He was right all along. Elio never wanted him. Elio was playing games with the stranger that was staying at his house and invading his life. He was just a plaything until the end of the summer. 

Finally, Elio went in for the kiss. Well, he technically licked Oliver’s lips first, but then went for the kiss. Where Oliver was calm and calculated, Elio was bold and direct. Elio was too sure of himself, Oliver didn’t know how anyone could be that sure of themselves, especially when they were kissing him. He was too distracted, his hand wandering down Elio’s jaw to his neck, his perfect Greek god-like neck. He had to call this off. If he didn’t he would want more he would need more he would need to have Elio all to himself and he knew he would never get that. They had been good. 

Oliver ended the kiss and needed to get the last word. “Better now?” 

Elio didn’t respond. Oliver didn’t look at him because if he did, he would want to kiss him again. He was in quite the predicament, now every time he would see Elio around the house he would think of how badly he wanted to kiss him, hold him, be around him. This would be the first and last time that they would ever have this. It seemed like Elio might feel the same way. He surged on top of Oliver and started kissing him again. 

Oliver didn’t ever want this to end. But he wasn’t just hearing his thoughts in his head anymore. He was hearing his parents, mostly his dad, everything he had heard thrown at him at his school in New England. This had to stop. He had to be the one to stop it. Oliver realized that he had to be the bad guy in his own story. He didn’t know if Elio would understand. A part of him didn’t want Elio to understand because that would mean he would know the pain that Oliver was going through. He wouldn’t be able to handle that. He wanted to be nice, and quiet and end it. 

“No, no,” a gentle push got Elio off of him. He looked confused but mostly hurt. Oliver didn’t plan to give an explanation, but he felt like he had to now. “I know myself, and we’ve been good, we haven’t done anything to be ashamed of and that’s a good thing. I want to be good.” The last sentence was a total lie. If being with Elio was as bad as people had led him to believe it was, then being good wasn’t worth it. But, he had to hold fast, and hope that Elio would understand and back off. On the other hand, he wanted Elio to fight him. He had never wanted someone to disagree with him so much as he had in that moment. Elio squinted into the sun at his face, and Oliver tried to train it to not show too much of himself. 

Elio scooted closer to him. He was planning something. He put a firm, sure hand on Oliver’s crotch. This was the only proof that Elio was actually sure of wanting Oliver. Oliver knew he would have to end this eventually, but he looked at Elio and smiled. 

“Am I offending you?” Oh, if Elio only knew. Nothing he could do would ever offend Oliver. Oliver was so infatuated with Elio that if he spat in his face and told him he never wanted to see him again he would feel a spark of electricity and love from it. 

This was the confirmation that he was silently begging Elio for, and he got it. Oliver decided to thank him for it by resting his hand on top of Elio’s, taking a moment to appreciate how much larger his hand was, and the warmth radiating from Elio’s hand. Then, he brought it and placed it on Elio’s knee. 

“Just don’t.” Oliver wasn’t able to say that he didn’t want it because that would have been a lie. Elio really was smart and he did know a lot of things, and Oliver had a feeling that he would see right through this lie. He needed an excuse to change the subject and he felt that his hip was stinging. It had been, probably this whole time, but his mind was on other things. 

He lifted his shirt up and then realized it looked like he was putting on a show. Maybe he was, he didn’t even know anymore. He was also wary of the lotion that Anchise had given him. “I think this is getting infected.”

Elio replied smoothly as ever, “We can go to the pharmacist on the way home.” 

Oliver used this as an opportunity to touch Elio again, just in case it was the last time. This was the last time and then he would make himself scarce, he would let Elio come to him or find himself with Marzia or someone else. He grabbed Elio’s hand to help him off the ground and they both held on for longer than necessary. It felt nice. 

“Good idea, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so these are not in order, sorry about that, but let me know if there's any scenes you want from Oliver's POV in particular, this is fun to write 
> 
> thank you for reading, it warms my cold, cold heart. thank you for comments and kudos, y'all are the best 
> 
> tumblr is @/lilchalamet


	4. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's arrival to the villa from his POV.

Oliver didn’t know what to expect when he was pulling up to the villa in a cab. The cab was far too small for his frame, and he was excited to be free from its grip. He didn’t expect something so luxurious, for him of all people. He was still in shock having gotten this opportunity in the first place. He was nervous. He was nervous because he had to burn some major bridges to get himself to where he was. His on and off girlfriend had broken up with him when she found out he was going away for six weeks. The only good thing that came from that was he got to travel around Italy for a while before he showed up to the Perlman's. 

Once he got out of the car, he was welcomed almost immediately. When he stretched upwards, though, he saw something that caught his eye. Two pairs of eyes looking down at him. He wondered when he would meet them. 

Who he recognized as Professor Perlman was the first one to welcome him. He was hugged with open arms, something that he was not used to in his family. 

“You’re much bigger than your photo!” Professor Perlman was a small man himself, but this was a reaction that Oliver was used to getting. 

“Ah, well, it’s hard to fit all of me in the photo.” Oliver gestured down to himself. He had a stockpile of comebacks for when people said anything about his height. He tried to pretend that he didn’t mind the comments, but sometimes they got to him. They were the one thing that he saw from his father, a father that didn’t see enough of himself in Oliver. 

“Come in, come in!” Oliver didn’t really know how to react to how nice Professor Perlman was being, so he decided to stay neutral, even cold to protect himself. It all seemed too good to be true. Especially since he didn’t even really know him yet. He was led to the couch and let himself sit down. 

He heard more people walking into the room, and he saw Mrs. Perlman and the owner of one of the pairs of eyes he saw in the window upstairs. He caught himself staring at the owner of those eyes for too long, and made sure his gaze was steely again. He couldn’t afford to show weakness this early in the game. 

“Oliver, this is my son, Elio.” Professor Perlman gestured to the lanky boy, standing like he was unsure of what he was supposed to be doing in his own house. Oliver found that charming, but not for too long. He was there to learn, not gawk. “Elio, Oliver, Oliver, Elio.” 

Oliver decided to stand up, wanting to gauge how he looked next to Elio. It was a kind of primal desire that he couldn’t help himself from feeling. He also hoped that this would prompt an exit to a room because he was exhausted from traveling. He had never traveled out of the country before, and his short trip in the south of Italy didn’t help him with the jet lag at all. He was worn out, but more than anything, he wasn’t ready to start being the Oliver he wanted to be yet. He didn’t know how he wanted to present himself to this family yet, and he didn’t know what they expected from him. His plan was to be the perfect academic while still going out and playing poker if he could find a game nearby, but the Perlmans didn’t have to know about that. He would ask about that later. 

“Shall I take his bags to his room?” Oliver watched as Elio paused and laughed to himself. “My room?” 

Mrs. Perlman – no – Annella laughed and nodded. She kissed Elio on the cheek. As Elio was walking upstairs with Oliver’s bags, Professor Perlman and his wife were watching from below. They looked so happy. Oliver wondered if he would ever be that happy. 

“Our home is your home.” Professor Perlman said. He seemed like he really meant it, too. Most people that said stuff like that to Oliver in the past didn’t seem genuine at all, but it seemed like Professor Perlman was really just happy to have Oliver there. Mrs. Perlman simply nodded in agreement. Oliver watched as they kissed, he felt like he was invading and turned to walk up the stairs. A part of him was worried he would lose Elio and have to find his way to the room, and that was not something he was willing to do. 

He found Elio though. He had put the suitcases down on the side of the room, by the wall, like a bellhop would have done. It was like it was a hotel. Except it clearly wasn’t. He could feel the energy of the person that usually lived in this room and it was nice and full of life. That didn’t seem to match Elio, but he had a feeling that Elio might be just as shy as he was. Elio was probably better at covering it up, but Oliver could sense it. He figured being the professor’s son was not necessarily an easy gig, but it probably meant that Elio was way smarter than anyone else in the town, except maybe his father. 

He saw the twin beds and immediately plopped down on one. He noticed how much his body didn’t fit on the mattress, but he decided he could fix that later. He pretty much fell asleep right away, until he heard Elio leaving. 

“This was your room?” He wanted to thank Elio, but he wanted to make sure he was right before he did so. 

“Yeah. Now I’ll be next door, the only way out is through the bathroom, so I’ll keep this door open.” Oliver thought it was interesting that Elio sounded like he was apologizing already. He didn’t think that he even deserved an apology for something that small, but he appreciated how considerate Elio already was being. 

“Thanks, man.” Oliver sometimes felt like he needed to put on a more masculine air to match his appearance. His father always told him that the reason he wasn’t succeeding in life, his father’s take, not his, was because he didn’t appear manly enough. It was because he was a tall guy that was just too sensitive, so Oliver avoided appearing like that at all costs. To drown out those thoughts, he rolled over and fell asleep right away. 

Oliver was sound asleep when he thought he heard the ringing of a bell. He decided to ignore it, the lazy feeling of his subconscious winning out the fight like it always would. Then, he heard what sounded like someone throwing a book on the floor. He woke up due to curiosity alone. Who was in this room throwing books? What was going on? Oliver looked up to see Elio looking sheepish like he was trying to pretend he had dropped the book by accident. 

“We’re being called for dinner.” Oh man, Oliver didn’t realize it was this kind of family. The kind of family that always ate together, and had a beautiful spread so they all could talk and rehash the day. His family was a TV dinner family, through and through. He wasn’t ready to face so much togetherness, not with this jet lag. 

“I think I’m gonna have to pass. Can you give your mom an excuse for me?” Oliver didn’t think that they would be mad, but he thought it would be best to cover his bases, just in case. 

Elio grunted a response that sounded a lot like a yes. Oliver decided to take it as such. “Thanks, man.” It was his go-to saying, and he needed to snap himself out of it. So, he decided to say something else. “Later.” That felt good. It felt short and sweet. Oliver liked short and sweet. He didn’t need to have the conversation linger. He didn’t want to waste anyone’s time with goodbyes. He always felt that goodbyes were the worst parts of conversations and he tried to avoid them when he could. 

When he finally woke up, it was the next morning. He was happy that he was able to sleep through the whole night because his body clearly needed it. When he was getting dressed, he looked in the mirror and noticed that he was starting to look more like himself. When he had arrived in the south of Italy, he looked gaunt and tired, but now that he had traveled and had more pasta than he was willing to admit, he looked better. He thought about going on a run because he did that every morning back home, but he decided to let that slide just this once. 

He walked downstairs to see what was going on and what he would be doing that day. He saw that there was a person in the kitchen, who he believed was named Mafalda. She pointed to the backyard for him to go, and he figured that everyone might be outside. They were all sitting and reading the paper and drinking espresso and eating their breakfast. He loved the sight of it. It was such an incredibly Italian thing to watch that he was almost dazed. He was acknowledged by everyone and they all commented on how well rested he looked. Oliver tried not to preen under the compliments, so he just grimaced instead. He often wondered what he came off like to others, but he didn’t like to think about that so much. 

Professor Perlman turned to him, “espresso?” Oliver nodded enthusiastically. He as grateful that the Italians knew what they were doing. He was then offered an egg, which he took with less enthusiasm. He knew that soft boiled eggs were big here, but he never quite cracked how to crack one the right way. He decided that if he was going to go for it to cover that he didn’t know what he was doing he might as well go big and just smash at it. He was quickly caught doing this and didn’t have time to feel embarrassed before Mafalda came over and cracked it open for him. He looked at her in gratitude. 

“Maybe you can show Oliver around town Elio?” That was Professor Perlman. He seemed like he was going to be trying to get him and Elio to be friends, which made sense as he was going to be in their house for six weeks. He decided now was a good time to ask about a bank account. He figured it wouldn’t be too odd of a request and it wouldn’t stand out as ridiculous. 

“I was thinking about opening a local bank account, actually.”

“Oh, none of our students have ever had a local bank account before, or even wanted one.”

Shit. Oliver was worried that he was caught. Instead, he just smiled. Elio suggested a bank that was apparently closed for the summer, and then a different one. He then discussed the bike situation with his father and that was settled. He was going to be getting a personal tour of their town on bikes with Elio. He could be cool about it. He just couldn’t get too attached. 

They finished their breakfast and Elio walked them over to the bikes. Oliver didn’t know why he felt so nervous, but there was a kind of energy bubbling in him that made him want to get away from everyone. He was already thinking of ways to be alone when they were biking around. The problem was that he also felt incredibly guilty for wanting to be alone. It was like his mind was at war with itself and that made it hard for him to focus on what Elio was talking about. He eventually realized it had been too long since he had said anything, so he grunted to acknowledge what Elio was saying about the history of the town. 

They stopped to get something to drink, and Oliver was finally starting to feel like himself again. He decided to strike up a conversation with Elio. This was the first time it had just been them, and he wanted to know what Elio was like without his parents there. 

“So, what does one do around here?” Oliver could have kicked himself. He was never very good at small talk, but this took the cake, he was clearly floundering. He looked up at Elio, expecting to be met with laughter or being made fun of, but he didn’t find that at all. 

“Wait for summer to end.” Oliver laughed. This was how it was going to go, and he was okay with that. Elio had set the pace, and he was more than willing to follow along. 

“And what do you do while you’re doing that?” 

“Go to the lake, go out at night, transcribe music, read.” 

Oliver took note of that. He wondered why Elio had listed reading last. It seemed like he was trying to push it to the back, even though Oliver had seen him reading more than anything else in the past two days he had been there. He wondered if Elio was trying to appear cool for him. This was quickly pushed out of his mind. 

“What does one do in the winter?” Oliver asked, but he felt like he knew the answer. Elio smirked at him and he knew he was right. “Let me guess, wait for summer to come.” 

“Yeah, but we only come here for Christmas anyway.” 

Oliver thought about this for a second. “I thought you were Jewish.” 

“Jewish, American, Italian, French. Kind of an unusual combination. Other than my family, you’re probably the first Jew to set foot in this town.” Oliver understood that. He knew that feeling painfully well. He felt his Star of David cold on his chest and for a second thought to button his shirt to cover it but decided against it. He had committed too hard to being himself and not caring that he couldn’t back down now. 

This was his chance to leave and get out and be alone. He stood up and thanked Elio for showing him around. It was clear that Elio thought they were going somewhere together, but Oliver couldn’t handle that. He felt bad about what he was about to do, but he did it for his own sanity. 

He got on his bike, and after helping Elio stabilize his, biked off with a “later!” over his shoulder. He didn’t want to look for long enough to see Elio’s disappointed face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let a bitch know if you want more Oliver POV and I will try my best to do so 
> 
> my tumblr is @/lilchalamet 
> 
> thank you for comments and kudos, it fills this ol bag of bones with joy <3


	5. Nosebleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, the nosebleed scene.

Elio had told him that they called it lunch drudgery and now that he was eating his way through a very passionate Italian conversation about politics, he understood why. He thought that he was maybe okay at Italian, but this was going way too fast for him to even begin to understand what was going on. Occasionally, he would sneak looks at Elio to see if he was having as awful of a time as he was. It was hard to tell. He wished he could read his mind, see what he was thinking. It almost looked like he wasn’t thinking anything, he was so used to being shut down during these meals that no information was coming into his head. 

The courses seemed to be taking forever. Oliver figured out that this was because in relation to topics covered by the lunch guests, everything else seemed slow. He had never seen two people talk over each other more in his whole life. It was a strange difference from what he was used to growing up. Almost no one spoke at the lunch table, to the point of seeming like they were all eating alone. Oliver often used to wish that he could eat alone, but he was never allowed to do so. He would complain that his parents didn’t even want him there at the table in the first place, but nothing worked. So, he would sit and eat in silence. That was basically what he was doing now, until he heard one of them say “Americano” and then the whole table looked at him, except Elio. It seemed like Elio had quickly looked away when everyone looked at him. Interesting. Mrs. Perlman came to his defense and said that he didn’t know about the current politics of Italy, and thank god, because even though he did know some, he would rather be on no side than the wrong one. 

Oliver decided he would test the waters. He was going to make contact with Elio and see what Elio did. Since they were sitting next to each other, it wasn’t that hard to do. Oliver put his foot on Elio’s. Not very hard, but enough to make his presence known. Elio seemed to stiffen. He didn’t know how to react to this, so he took his foot back. He didn’t put it that far away, though, just far enough that it was up to Elio to make the next move. It took until the lunch plates were being taken away and the dessert to come for him to do it. Oliver felt Elio’s foot rest on his and it was bliss. Well, it was bliss for a moment, until Elio suddenly panicked. Oliver removed the foot in question from under Elio’s just in case anyone was to look under the table and looked at Elio. 

What he saw was not what he was expecting. Elio had a napkin to his face, but the blood on the ice cream gave him away. He was having a nose bleed. Oliver didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if this was normal or a cause for concern. Elio got up quickly with some excuse about having been in high altitude earlier that day and ran inside. Mrs. Perlman quickly assured him and the other guests that this happened to Elio all the time, and there was no need to worry. 

Oliver sat at the table for what felt like eternity. In reality, it was a couple of minutes at most. If he was being honest with himself, he was waiting for Elio to come back to the table to make sure he was ok. It seemed like that was not going to happen. In addition, he was not adding anything to the conversation at the table, so he decided that it would be okay for him to take his leave. He touched Mr. Perlman on the shoulder hopefully conveying ‘I’m going to check on your son, who I may or may not be in danger of falling in love with’ and not ‘I’m leaving this lunch because I’m a total asshole’. Maybe he was somewhere in the middle. That was fine with him. 

The new problem would be where he would be able to find Elio in the villa. It was pretty large, and he didn’t know if Elio had a certain place he went when he got nosebleeds if he really got them as often as he said he did. When he walked in, he saw Mafalda on her way back from closing the freezer, tsk’ing with a fondness that Oliver had come to get used to from her. He whisper-shouted ‘Elio’ a few times until he saw a pair of legs that he would recognize anywhere sidled up to the bar fridge. 

He walked into the small room and looked at Elio. Elio, who, frankly, looked like a damn mess. He was holding a rag filled with presumable ice to his face, and there was still some blood on his chin from the incident. Oliver had never been full of such fond feelings for someone that was that bloody before in his whole life. But, as with a lot of things this summer, it felt as though there was a first time for everything. Oliver didn’t know what to do. He was never really good with comforting people. When he was younger and scraped his knee up or banged his head, his mother never really offered him any kind words, and his father scoffed at any pain he was ever in. 

Luckily, Elio told him what to do. “Sit down for a second.” Elio gestured with his head to the ridiculously small amount of space that was between himself and the door jamb. There was no world where they would be able to be there comfortably without touching. Oliver thought that he might be okay with that. It would be a good excuse, anyway. He wasn’t being creepy, he was being helpful, nurse-like even. He had to ask an important question, even if he was scared of the answer. He really hoped that Elio would be honest. 

“That wasn’t my fault, was it?” Oliver tried not to visibly panic waiting for the answer. 

“No.” Elio seemed to consider the implications and tried to go even further, blaming himself. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Oliver laughed. Of everything that was going on, this was the least messy thing about their afternoon. 

“The kitchen table sure is.” Oliver looked for that comradery that they had so easily fallen into, and he found it, and so much more. He saw trust, which was something that he didn’t expect. Like Oliver was the one that was going to make everything better, even if he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t the reason things were bad in the first place. 

When he sat down and looked at Elio, he didn’t see Elio anymore. He saw himself as a much younger boy. Younger than Elio by far. He saw himself as a ten-year-old when he spent the summer at his grandmother’s house. He came down with an awful cold, and his grandmother doted on him like no one else ever had. He remembered being confused about why she was being so nice and gentle with him. She had simply responded that that is what you’re meant to do when you care about someone that much. She rubbed his feet and fed him matzo ball soup, telling him that she was healing him with love. He remembered trying this a little later when he was back at home and his mother had gotten sick. She laughed at him when he tried to rub her feet. She had told him that her mother was crazy and that doesn’t do anyone any good. 

Nevertheless, he took one of Elio’s feet. He squirmed. “Trust me.” 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” 

Oliver smiled because, despite his question, Elio relaxed immediately. He trusted him too much, almost. “My bubba used to do this to me all the time when I was sick. Works like a charm.” 

Elio was feeling around Oliver’s collar until he felt his Star of David. The necklace that he felt he had committed to wearing, even though he knew he already stuck out like a sore thumb. Oliver had decided that if he was going to commit to wearing it, that he was going to wear it proudly, with his shirt open like he didn’t have a care in the world that he was different. That being said, if he had never worn it, he might have been happier. But, this conversation would never be happening. 

“I used to have one of these.” Elio sounded sad.

“Used to? How come you never wear it?” Oliver didn’t even think about this being a sensitive question, mostly because of their position, nothing could be more sensitive than that. Maybe, Oliver wanted a reason to take his off. Or, wanted to give Elio a reason to put his on. 

“My mother says we are Jews of discretion.” The way Elio said that spoke volumes. It meant to Oliver that he had been told to take it off so many times that he eventually did. Oliver wondered how many times it took for Elio to finally give in. 

“Well, I guess that works for your mother.” Oliver understood not having beliefs that lined up with his mother’s, but Mrs. Perlman seemed to overall support Elio more than his own mother had supported him. He didn’t want to bite the hand that fed him. 

Oliver found a particularly rough spot and rubbed it harder. Elio jerked his leg again. “You’re going to fucking kill me if you keep doing that.” Oliver couldn’t help but imagine that as quickly as Elio had said it. He had never seen something as vividly as he saw Elio dying and having to live with the repercussions of that. 

Oliver spoke honestly, whether it was on purpose or not. “I sure hope not.” Oliver ran a hand up and down Elio’s perfect, perfect leg. He was amazed that, even for a second, he could be this close to someone like Elio. And, for good measure, he kissed the top of Elio’s foot. 

It was approaching dinnertime when things took a turn for the worse. He had promised Elio that he would stick around and be there for him, but there was something that was scaring him about that. In addition, something that made him angry. He was angry because he had been promised that same promise before and it never was kept. Oliver’s Bubba had come over to his house when he was almost 16 and told him that she was moving in. That she would stick around and be there for him even when his parents weren’t. She died the summer before his junior year. The worst part was, she had never even started packing up her stuff to move into his house with his parents. She had never even considered putting her house on the market. It was an empty promise. 

Oliver wasn’t proud of what he did, but he needed to leave. He saw Chiara and Marzia go into the villa and told them about Elio. Chiara clearly wanted to hang out with him, but he wasn’t in the right headspace to do that. He felt like he was sixteen again and all he knew how to do was win poker games and fend for himself. So, that’s what he did. When he went to the bar to play poker he felt safe again, like he could breathe. When he looked up, it was past ten. He took his time getting back to the villa and sat on what he was quickly beginning to refer to as “his bench”. He looked up at Elio’s room. Two lights were on. He allowed himself to wonder for just a moment if Elio was waiting up for him. Then, he went up the stairs, went to the bathroom, and went to his bed. He heard the light in Elio’s room turn off. 

Oliver looked at the door that separated the bathroom from his room. On the floor, as if it had been slipped under the door, was a note.


	6. We Wasted So Many Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this depressing/sappy garbage

Oliver was sitting outside. He was sitting in the place that he had dubbed his ‘thinking spot’. He had never seen anyone else come here at night, and it was a welcome time to be alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the company of the people it the house, he loved everyone that made up the fabric of the villa. It was the problem that he loved them all too much. He never thought that he would be the kind of person to be so full of love for a group of people that it killed him to be away from them. 

It was then he figured out that this was what he was preparing for all along. He had been getting ready to say goodbye ever since the day at the volleyball court, ever since the first kiss, it was a countdown to what would soon be their last. He didn’t realize it until now, but he was trying to pull away so that when he was no longer cushioned by the amount of love and support he was feeling back home he wouldn’t lose all sense of himself. He wanted Elio to find him, but at the same time, he wanted to let him have a clean break. 

Oliver was smart enough to know that this was not something that he was going to bounce back from well, if at all. Elio was younger though, and like everything, he would be able to spring back faster, to a fuller extent. Oliver was a small part of what would become Elio’s entire world. Elio really did have the opportunity to conquer the world. With his three languages, he spoke and all of his talents, there would soon be a time when Oliver was just someone that he once looked up to. 

Sitting here, thinking about this, is where Elio found him. Elio looked at Oliver like he hung the moon, which was the most dangerous feeling in the world to receive when he knew he was nowhere near the person that Elio deserved. It was also intoxicating. No one had ever seen Oliver like that before. Before Elio sat down, he leaned over and kissed Oliver like he was something fragile that could break at any moment. Like he maybe didn’t exist in a world outside of this small villa and the space they created. The space where there was no longer a ‘me’ but a ‘we’ between them. Oliver didn’t grasp how starved he was for this. He leaned into the kiss with a fervor that Elio was quick to reciprocate. Oliver sensed that Elio wanted to talk, so he let the kiss end. 

Elio sat down across from him on the tree and they fit perfectly together. Even something as small as this made Oliver feel a confusing blend of happy and sad. It was as if one could not exist without the other when it came to Elio and Italy and the feeling of summer. The languid hot days were lazy because they could be, and he was happy about that. But with that came the feeling of guilt for not having done more during the day, when the weather was so nice and no one had anything else to worry about. “I sit here for hours at night, just thinking.” Oliver surprised himself with that confession. It felt like Elio should know. 

Elio had a hand on Oliver’s knee. It felt right. It felt like Elio didn’t even maybe realize that he was doing that. That he didn’t even think that Oliver would need comfort, but simply blindly gave it to him. Elio slipped a hand under Oliver’s shirt, that he absentmindedly remembered was Elio’s favorite. “That’s funny, I thought-“

“I know what you thought.” Oliver pushed Elio. He needed this lighthearted banter to balance out how seriously he was thinking about his return to the states. Oliver didn’t want to talk directly about what Elio thought he was doing. Because they both knew. The problem was that it wasn’t all false. There were some parts that probably were true. Elio didn’t need to know that. Oliver could be perfect to him for the six weeks that he mattered. They were shoving back and forth until Elio got serious again. Elio looked like he was calculating something in his head, counting, almost looking at a calendar. 

“We wasted so many days.” Elio rocked back on his heels, seemingly to come forward with more strength on the return. “Why didn’t you give me a sign?”

Oliver laughed. If only Elio had known how many signs he had given him. Oliver figured it would be easier if he only mentioned the most obvious one. “What about that day on the volleyball court? When I touched you.” Oliver was punctuating with kisses on Elio’s neck. “To show you,” another kiss, “that I liked you.” Oliver sat back on the tree before continuing. “The way you reacted made me feel like I molested you! So, I decided to back off.” 

Oliver leaned back and enjoyed the silence that settled between them. He came here nearly every night, but he felt like he had spent no nights there. He didn’t think he had spent enough time here to do anything a lot. He didn’t know how to articulate that, so he nodded. Oliver hoped he wasn’t walking himself into a trap. The trap being telling Elio exactly what he was thinking about. There would be the option of not telling him, but Oliver didn’t think he would be able to lie to Elio. Not tonight, anyway. 

“What are you thinking about?” Elio was so earnest, so guarded and so hopeful. Elio was treating time in the opposite way that Oliver was. Where Oliver had felt a lifetime, Elio was constantly fearing going back to day one with Oliver. Back before they had admitted their deepest truths to each other, whether on purpose or not. 

Oliver took a deep breath to explain himself. “You, having to go home soon, leaving Italy, the states, you.” Oliver realized he said ‘you’ twice. He was thinking about Elio more than anything else. Even when he was consciously trying not to think about Elio, there he was, thinking about Elio. 

“Me?” Elio was so smart, but so dumb sometimes. 

“You.” 

“Only me?” 

“You, and no one else.” Oliver pulled Elio in for a kiss. A kiss that was in itself an apology and a welcome. An apology for not letting Elio into his world sooner, and a welcome to it. Even though Elio had never physically been there with Oliver, he always was there. When Oliver would look up at Elio’s window at night, wondering if tonight was the night that he was going to be brave enough to say something, to cross the tiled bathroom floor and confess to Elio what he was going to do. When he was feeling guilty about whether or not he was going to talk to Elio after he got his nosebleed. He knew what Elio thought he was doing, and he never understood why he didn’t outwardly deny it. Maybe he was jealous that Elio was with Marzia and he never needed Oliver in the first place. 

Oliver kissed Elio with the memory of what they had shared in their short time together. He didn’t know if he would ever be back with Elio here, on this tree, but that didn’t matter. He would be able to replay this kiss for the rest of his life. He thought, when he came up for air, that Elio might have been the love of his life. The worst part was, he almost said that to Elio. He almost admitted the most devastating truth he had ever imagined to the love of his life. It was then, in between kisses, that he understood he could never tell Elio that. He would have to leave Elio in the dark. 

Devastated. That was the only thing that could sum up Oliver’s emotions. Standing up, he led Elio through the dark, the darkness that would soon shroud the both of them, their memories of each other and their memories of the time they spent here. Oliver didn’t think that there was anything that would make him forget Elio, but he couldn’t say the same for him. He led them back home. Back to what Oliver called home in his head. What he called their bed. What he called their room. Home. 

Elio was wrong about something, though. No days with Elio were wasted days. There was nothing anyone could say to prove otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kind of wrote this half-okay. if i have to write anything more about this tree it will reveal too much about my own damn self. sorry if this is bad enjoy if you want 
> 
> comments keep me alive, roast me if you feel so inclined. tumblr is @/lilchalamet


	7. When Midnight is Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's POV leading up to and including midnight.

Oliver didn’t know when the anxiety started. Granted it wasn’t constant. It ebbed and flowed like everything else in his life, but when it was there it was a feeling deep in his chest that he didn’t know how to react to. The first time he got the constant tightness in his chest and stomach ache to go away was on the Berm. When he was kissing Elio, there was nothing there. When they stopped kissing, it came back tenfold. He couldn’t afford to ruin Elio when he knew how much shit he was going through himself. He needed to have some time for himself. That meant playing poker and working on his manuscript and being busy. He didn’t think he was avoiding Elio. Or at least, he didn’t think it was so obvious or that he was doing it on purpose because he thought Elio wouldn’t care. Why would he? Elio had Marzia now. 

Then, it all changed. When he heard the note slide under his door, he knew something was going to change. He didn’t know what the note said, but he knew that it was Elio making as grand a gesture as he could, given the situation. Oliver was already worried he wouldn’t know how to respond. Elio had stayed out late that night. Oliver knew that. He didn’t know that because he was waiting up to hear him come in. He wouldn’t allow himself that courtesy to believe that he deserved to know where Elio was at all times, or ever. When he saw the light under Elio’s door go out, he stood up to retrieve the note to see what it said. 

“I can’t stand the silence. I need to talk to you.’

Oliver tried to battle the bubbling giddiness that came up from this. He hated that he was happy. He didn’t think that he was trying to manipulate Elio at all. In his heart, it wasn’t a test to see if Elio cared about him being around at all, but it was nice that it turned out that he did. Oliver was glad that this seemed to confirm that he wasn’t just another set of lips to occupy Elio’s time. Oliver didn’t know how to react to the note, how to respond. If he was rational, he would think ‘sleep on it, you’ll have your answer in the morning,’ but with all of this energy, he was not feeling rational. He thought about the many different responses he could send back. 

‘All I want is to be with you all the time.’ No, too much.

‘I haven’t done anything to not speak to you. I am still here.’ Too gaslight-y. He couldn’t do that, especially since that wasn’t fully the truth. He had tried to give Elio space. 

‘If you really feel this way, come to my room at midnight.’ That felt closer, but not quite right. He wanted to speak to Elio, but he didn’t only want to talk to him if he felt the same way Oliver did. Because, if he was being honest with himself, he really just missed having Elio’s company. 

He settled on a mixture of everything, despite the fact that he was worried that what he wanted to be a playful tone wouldn’t come across. ‘Grow up. I’ll see you at midnight.’ An invitation, but a promise at the same time. Oliver had promised before that he would stick around, and he regretted that because he didn’t follow through. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but he was worried about the implications of trying to be his care nurse. Oliver hoped that this would finally get himself out of his head. 

When he knew that Elio was sleeping, he crept into his room. He noted that the door between Elio’s room and the bathroom was left open. He idly wondered if that was on purpose since he seemed to never shut it when he went to sleep. He set the note on top of the notebook where Elio was transcribing Hayden’s ‘It Is Finished’ and crept back to his bed. He knew that Elio would see it sooner rather than later, as this was his passion project for the summer, much like Oliver’s manuscript was his own. 

Then, Oliver slept, the questions flying in his mind, wondering where this would take them. Oliver woke up early the next morning, as he had been almost every day recently to go on a run. He liked to run off the food that Mafalda was cooking. Because, and bless her heart, it was going to clog his arteries if he didn’t actively do something to avoid that. The other option, he supposed was not eating so much, but that was an option that only made sense to people that had never tried her cooking. When he was returning to his room, he saw Elio coming down the stairs, to an amused look from his father. 

“Late night last night?” Mr. Perlman’s voice had a laugh in it, seemingly irritating Elio. Mr. Perlman gave Oliver a look and asked the second, more interesting question. “I suppose you’ve started playing poker as well?” 

Elio walked down the stairs, brushing by Oliver, giving him a pointed look. “I don’t play poker.” Oliver didn’t know what to take from this. He walked upstairs to change clothes and shower, and when he went to shower, he took a peek into Elio’s room. The note was exactly where he left it. So, Elio either hadn’t seen it yet, or he was not happy with the response. Either way, it wasn’t looking good for Oliver. 

Oliver made the decision to be civil, no matter what Elio’s response was. He ate breakfast with the family. Elio went upstairs to get his notebook, and Oliver held his breath. This as the moment of truth. 

Oliver decided to bury himself in his work. He didn’t see Oliver again until lunch. He was working on slides with Mr. Perlman and was finding the work fascinating, trying not to get distracted with the looming midnight. Finally, it was lunchtime. Oliver absently wondered what Elio had been doing all day. He figured probably what he had been doing every other morning, working on Hayden or reading or playing the piano. He was trying not to think about it too much. 

When they were sitting at lunch, Elio and his mother were bickering. It was a nice and familial bicker and Oliver was surprised that he didn’t feel like he was intruding on this family meal. It was a foreign feeling, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Elio said his name and he focused again. They were talking about wearing the shirt that the gay couple had given Elio. Oliver was shocked by how open Elio’s parents were being. Elio didn’t seem to be, so Oliver realized that perhaps, for Elio, this was normal. 

“I’ll try it on for Oliver.” Oliver gulped. He wasn’t ready for this kind of domestic conversation. “If he thinks I look like a skeleton, I’m not going to wear it.” Oliver wanted to say, ‘you would never look like a skeleton. You look good in everything I’ve ever seen you in.’ But, what he decided to do was say nothing. 

Oliver wanted to try something. He had to meet with his translator at 3, and this lunch had gone on for a while, he could feel it. Instead of asking Elio what time it was, he grabbed his wrist and looked at the watch for himself. Not before looking at Elio, it what he hoped was a pointed look. 

“Well, I have to go to the translator. I’m off!” Elio looked disappointed. Mrs. Perlman smirked and Oliver tried to figure out what that meant, before she, perhaps mocking Oliver said, “later.” Oliver decided to laugh it off and play along. He liked when he felt like he was playing along with people like he was in on something fun and harmless like making fun of his American-isms. 

Oliver went to the translator and then tried to figure out what he was going to do for the rest of the day. He was too fidgety to stay around the house, and he had already told Mafalda that he couldn’t come to dinner. The dinner worried him. He didn’t want to read too much into it. Elio being there and the older gay couple, he didn’t want to hope too much that he was looking into his future. He decided that he wasn’t going to let this happen. So, he didn’t go home. He wandered the streets, trying to soak it all in. There was a nagging in the back of his mind that he was not going to be there forever. This started when he unpacked his suitcase into the closet. He never did this when he went on trips. In his mind, the only thing worse than settling in and getting used to something was having to go through the opposite and pack all the bags again to leave. Eventually, he found Chiara and her friends and killed some time with them dancing and drinking. At around ten, he walked home. He wanted to have his wits about him. He knew it would take a little while, so he used that time to think. After half an hour, he found himself thinking too much. He didn’t like that at all. So, he got into a taxi and gave them the villa’s address and was relieved when they pulled up to the familiar gates. 

After Oliver paid the driver and started walking in on the gravel, he could hear music playing. It was beautiful, and he could tell that Elio was playing for an audience. When he wasn’t playing for people, it sounded humbler, like less of a performance. When he played for people, it was a show, he knew exactly what he was doing and how to press every key just so. Oliver ducked under the arch to walk in and made eye contact with Elio, and Elio alone. It was magnetic. He wanted to stay there and watch Elio play music for the rest of his life. But that wasn’t how life worked. So, he ended the eye contact and walked upstairs to try to calm himself down. 

Once he got to his room, he went into the closet to get his weed. He was going to need it, whether or not this midnight ended up happening, and in what way it did. He walked out onto the balcony. He loved the view. He felt as though if he squinted, he could see himself sitting on the tree he liked to sit on at night. Like he was always watching himself. He lit up the joint and smoked for a little while. He didn’t realize how quickly the time had passed, and he was getting cold, so he went inside. It was 11:50. He had heard Elio go upstairs a little while ago, and he was starting to get worried that he wouldn’t come. He didn’t blame Elio. He didn’t think that he was much of anyone to go somewhere at midnight for. Perhaps he was being cocky when he thought that he was. 

Oliver went back outside to finish his joint. Then, the most magical thing happened. He heard Elio step out onto the balcony with him. Elio put his hands down on the railing, and Oliver wanted to reach out and touch his hands so badly. He decided that since it was midnight and Elio had come to find him that he could. There were different rules now. He put a hand on Elio’s and it felt electric. 

Oliver decided to voice what he was feeling, maybe thanks, in part, to the joint. “I’m happy you came.” 

Elio didn’t look at him, but that was okay, because they were both looking at the same view, and that was almost better. “I’m nervous.” 

Oliver didn’t know what Elio was nervous about, but he was nervous too. “Me too.” Oliver nodded inside, and Elio followed, much to Oliver’s delight. Oliver was going to put the joint out because he didn’t know how Elio felt about things like this because they didn’t discuss things like this, but Elio stopped him and took it from him. Elio took a long drag and then put it out. They were leaning against the bed, and it felt so right, but so, so scary. Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

Elio put his head against Oliver’s shoulder, and at that moment, Oliver felt as though he was holding up the world. He supposed that, for him, he was holding up his world. Elio rotated and put his face against his chest. Oliver felt as though they were starting from square one. He lifted Elio’s face and asked the question he was nervous to ask. “Can I kiss you?”

Elio nodded, biting his lip. “Yes, please.” 

That was all Oliver needed. For some reason, Oliver didn’t kiss Elio on the lips, first. He kissed Elio’s neck, working his way up to the prize, Elio’s face. When he finally did get there, it was better than he could ever imagine. Sure, they had kissed before, but this time, he was less scared of ruining Elio’s life. Things were going fast. Too fast. He wanted to enjoy this, he wanted Elio to enjoy this. 

Oliver stole one more kiss and then walked over to sit on the bed. Elio went to shut the door and suddenly this was real. The door slammed, which, to be fair, they both should have been prepared for as this house was not new, but it was adorable to see Elio’s panicked reaction. Oliver beckoned to Elio to have him sit next to him. 

Elio sat down and Oliver took off his shoes. Elio followed suit. Elio started to slip a foot under Oliver’s. Oliver looked at how their feet looked together, shocked that even that seemed to just make sense. Elio seemed to like it even more. This made Oliver like it because whatever made Elio happy made Oliver happy. He had never experienced this kind of happiness from others, but he was starting to get used to it. Neither had said anything for too long. Oliver broke the silence. 

“What are you doing?” 

Elio replied, almost mocking Oliver. “Nothing.” 

“Does this make you happy?” Elio simply nodded, almost like he was embarrassed. Oliver decided that he didn’t ever want Elio to feel that way again. He doubled down on connecting their feet, and Elio climbed into his lap. Oliver felt a desperate need to break the tension, for both of them. “Promise you won’t get another nose bleed?” Elio shoved him and grappled more for a position in his lap. Oliver wished he could capture the moment, but too many things were happening. 

He was kissing Elio. He was taking Elio’s shirt off. Elio wanted Oliver to take his shirt off. This wasn’t crazy. They had both seen each other shirtless before, but in this context, it was consuming all of Oliver’s mind. Elio had his back on the mattress and Oliver was transfixed. 

Oliver wanted to make sure this was okay. “Are you sure you want this,” left his lips. Oliver didn’t want Elio to just be sure about anything, he wanted Elio to want him. That felt like a far-away dream. Elio just nodded. Oliver suddenly felt the pressure of being the one that was supposed to be the more experienced one. 

“Are you sure? We haven’t talked.” 

Elio responded by taking his jeans off, and then his underwear. He looked at Oliver with the kind of nakedness that Oliver had never seen, and never knew he wanted from Elio. Oliver did the same, coming down to Elio’s level on the bed. Somewhere in Oliver’s brain, he knew that they were passing a point of no return. So, he asked again. 

“Are you okay?” 

Elio responded by pulling Oliver down closer to him until they were fully touching, everywhere. Oliver had never been happier in his life. Elio looked into Oliver’s eyes and Oliver hoped that what he was showing was happiness and not the fear that was still lodged in the back of his mind. Elio moved and shifted to prove that this, this right now, was what he wanted. Elio was in the moment, and Oliver was running to catch up. 

And then, it happened. Elio and Oliver were closer to each other than Oliver had ever let himself be with a man. Sure, he had experimented, but never like this. Elio had his whole soul, his whole body and so much more. Elio had let out a grunt of pain and Oliver thought it was all over, that he had ruined Elio for good. Elio opened his eyes, looked at Oliver and nodded. This was okay. This was what Elio wanted. Oliver was nervous to make sure that Elio was enjoying himself, but looking down at Elio and seeing his eyes closed in ecstasy, he let himself escape in that feeling too. 

It was amazing. Oliver laid with his legs tangled with Elio’s and let himself be happy for a little while. Elio was asleep in his arms, and Oliver was at peace. He realized that he was having trouble sleeping all these other nights because he didn’t know how Elio was. Now, he knew and sleep was coming peacefully. The difference was that Oliver didn’t want to lose a single moment wrapped in Elio, in case Elio woke up the next morning and realized this was all a mistake. For now, everything was perfect, and that was all Oliver needed. Midnight was a time he would always cherish as Elio and his time.


	8. The Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you guys like ,,,,uhhhh bein sad?

There were a lot of things that Oliver didn’t like about the winter time. To him, it was a season that wasn’t just cold, it was absent of anything. Everything around him appeared to have the life sucked out of it. When he looked in the mirror in the front room of his apartment, he could see that he looked the same way. His face was sunken in and had lost the tan he got from the summer in Italy, and the extra pounds he had gained from Mafalda’s cooking were a distant memory now. He used to be able to smell the cooking when he thought about it, but even that was lost. 

He tried not to spend a lot of time looking at the calendar. Because winter also meant something else to Oliver now: it meant that the Perlman’s were back at their villa. He allowed himself selfishly to wonder if Elio was sad being back at the villa without him there, but only for a moment. It didn’t make sense. Oliver had only occupied a small amount of the time that Elio had ever spent in the villa, it was more normal than not that he wasn’t there. 

When Oliver turned in his new manuscript from the summer to his advisor in the states, he got incredible feedback. They told Oliver that whatever he was doing in Italy and whatever his method was worked for him. That he should keep it up. Oliver thanked him, it was a very nice thing to say. Something he had worked on for so long was getting the approval that he wanted when he went to Italy for the summer. What he didn’t mention was the fact that he didn’t know if he was ever going to be able to recreate what he had in Italy. He left the office with a tight feeling in his chest. There was a reason why he had done such good writing in Italy, and it had nothing to do with the place, although it was a great one. It was because, for all intents and purposes, he had a family there. Olivier’s advisor didn’t need to know that. It didn’t help that his advisor knew June. Of course, he did: she also went to school here, that’s how they had met. 

Oliver walked home. He wanted to be happy, he really did. When he got home, he was face to face with his calendar that was counting down the days. In a perfect world, this calendar would have been counting down the days until Oliver went back to the villa. It wasn’t. It was until he knew they would be back. They had been back for a while, Oliver knew. He had been stalling. It was now the middle of Hanukah, and Oliver knew it was the right time to call. It never would be, really. Oliver took a deep breath and walked over to the phone that was sat next to their fireplace. He swiveled the chair so that it was facing it. 

He started the fire. It was just to kill time; he didn’t need the heat, but he needed something to look at. Once the fire was going, he dialed the number. He hoped that someone else would pick up, but that, of course, was not the case. 

“Pronto?” 

It was Elio. That might be for the better, he had to rip this Band-Aid off eventually. For a moment, he silently thanked God that he was home alone. 

“Elio? Are you there?” He had no reason to ask. He would know that voice anywhere. Oliver already felt his vision going blurry, the logs in the fireplace were becoming indistinguishable from each other. 

Elio sighed. Oliver tried to picture where he was. Perhaps he had sat down in the chair next to the phone in the entryway. Oliver felt closer to him when he imagined seeing him. That made it hurt more. “Hi. How are you?” 

Oliver laughed. It was all so ridiculous. Elio asking him how he was. Elio caring about him, after all this time, even though it had felt like just yesterday he had been at the villa. The snow outside and his jacket on the hook in the hallway reminded him that it had been much longer. “I’m good, I’m good, how are you?” Oliver didn’t know who he was trying to convince. Himself or Elio. 

“I’m good, I’m fine.” Oliver could have sworn he heard a second of classical music. He saw Elio perfectly now: he had just taken off the headphones he wore like a second skin to hear Oliver better. Oliver tried to ignore the tug on his heartstrings that gave him. 

“I miss you.” Oliver had worried about this. Selfishly, he had hoped that Elio had forgotten all about him. That he wouldn’t even remember him when he called. That would make this so much easier for him. To break up with a stranger was not a break up at all. To call what he had to do a break up felt insignificant in comparison to what he felt with Elio. He would have never called Elio his “boyfriend,” even if he could. It didn’t hold enough weight. 

“I miss you too. Very much.” Oliver hoped that this would carry as much as he wanted it to. He needed it to go without saying. Even more so, because June had just walked in the door. He knew it was her because she had a habit of clinking her ring on the doorknob every time she came into their apartment. She was taking her time, but it was clear she was listening. She always listened. Oliver had learned early on not to talk about Elio too much in front of her. Eventually, he had stopped altogether. She didn’t get mad; they weren’t together over the summer, but she had a look on her face that conveyed a less than happy demeanor. Perhaps, Oliver had considered on one occasion, that was simply what her face always looked like. Like she had just eaten a grape that would be okay under normal circumstances, but it was bad compared to the excellent one she had eaten just a moment before. Like she was always searching for the match for that feeling and never found it. It used to make Oliver think she was deep, an intellectual. Now, it just made him sad. 

He spoke up loud enough for her to hear on purpose. “I have some news.” He wanted to sound happy, but he wasn’t. June had come around and wrapped her arms around him, her left hand over her right. The ring reflecting light of the fire onto his face. She kissed him on the temple. For her, this was home. When she strode in times before, she could declare ‘it’s so good to finally be home.’ Oliver had only felt that in one place. 

“News? Oh, you’re getting married, I suppose?” Christ. How did he know? Oliver felt better about the fact that he wouldn’t have to drop this on him and have it been a total shock, but it saddened him that Elio saw this coming. The other possibility that Oliver tried not to consider for too long was that Elio was trying to expect the worst and hope for the best. That to Elio, this was worse than any other option. This was worse than Oliver dying. Oliver nearly agreed with the Elio in his head. Oliver had always felt trapped in this as his future, and it seemed like other people in his life felt the same way. 

“I might be getting married,” Oliver felt the arms around him tighten. This was a warning. June didn’t like ‘maybes,’ June liked when things were certain. Hence the ring. Hence the shared apartment. “Next spring, yes.” 

“You never said anything.” Oliver wanted to die. He never said anything because he couldn’t handle losing what small amount of time he had been given with Elio. He wanted to lean back on the fact that the villa didn’t feel real, but the problem was that felt the most real out of anything he had ever experienced. This life now felt fake, like he had gone back to sleep after being awake for such a short amount of time. 

“We’ve been off and on for two years.” Oliver made sure to say ‘off’ before ‘on’. Most people switched it around, but he said it in that order for a reason. Because when he was ‘off’ and with Elio was when he felt the most alive. It felt wrong to be back ‘on.’ June didn’t notice this minor detail, though. She loosened her grip. She kissed him once more on the temple and started to walk around the apartment. Oliver sighed and he realized: it was now or never. 

“That’s wonderful news!” Oliver could have thrown himself into the fire on the spot. He didn’t realize what reaction he wanted from Elio until he got the absolute wrong one. 

Oliver turned to see if June was still listening, and she was definitely still in hearing range, so he had to tread carefully. “Do you mind?” He wanted Elio to scream, to yell at him, to beg him to come back so he could fight him in person. The lack of anything, the calm, morose celebration of something he wasn’t sure he had ever wanted was the scariest thing in the world. Elio couldn’t answer, because his parents picked up the phone. 

“Oliver!” “Oliver!” Oliver almost doubled over in pain. He felt as though he were talking to his parents on the phone after being away for a while. His actual parents had never greeted him so cheerfully on the phone. He had never been missed like this before. 

“Hey, hey.” Oliver was proud of himself, he had kept his cool, for the most part. He wondered if they had caught his small voice crack. His voice losing strength the longer this painful conversation was going. 

“Oh darling, when are you coming back?” Annella was going to be the death of him. Not only did they actually seem to care about him when he was there, but they wanted him to come back and visit. 

“I wish I was.” Oliver needed to keep things vague. He didn’t want to explicitly talk about what he wanted. It wasn’t as much for June, as it was for himself. He worried that if he talked about what he wished he could have too much, he would break down. He knew that it wasn’t possible, even if what he wanted seemed to want him back. This life that he had a sample of. 

“We’re in the process of choosing a new you for the summer.” That was good. It stung, but Oliver needed to hear it. The family was getting ready to replace him in their memories, in their home. He was going to be the past for them soon enough. Maybe that was good for Elio. He almost was starting to feel like a memory himself. Like he was separating himself from existing and just watching from the sidelines. 

“And guess what? He’s a she!” That could be good, too. If Elio was going to fall in love with the new houseguest, it would be easier if it was a girl. Maybe not. Oliver was probably projecting. It was so easy to do. Because he could see himself in that house, in that situation, because he wished he was still there. Where nothing bad could touch him with a ten-foot pole. But he was here, in reality. 

“Well, speaking of news, I’m calling to tell you guys I got engaged!” June was listening for sure now, and with Elio’s parents on the phone as well, he tried to sound happy. He tried to sound like the polite houseguest instead of a heathen that had ruined their son’s life. 

They showered him with congratulations and praise. He had done something right. It sounded hollow, but he tried not to think about that too much. Then, they hung up, to let him talk to Elio. June was still hovering in the kitchen, so he couldn’t speak freely. Then again, he never felt he could do that anyway. He had begun to try, with Elio, but never got there. 

“They know about us.” That felt like the final nail in the coffin. Oliver could no longer pretend that this was something that wasn’t real. It was something that even Elio’s parents could see. It was real. He couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. 

“I figured.” It was a bad cover, and Oliver didn’t feel like it was a very good lie, but it was all he had the energy to say. 

“How?” Damnit. Elio could see right through him. Elio was making him talk about this. Luckily, June seemed to be busy with other things. Oliver would have given a million dollars to not be where he was at that moment. To be with Elio at the villa, not worrying about getting married or his family or how he was going to have a family and carry on with his future. He hated where he was because he hated facing the truth. He felt as though breaking away from Elio was good for Elio, though. This was Elio’s chance to get rid of Oliver’s dead weight. He had been nothing but a time bomb for Elio, destruction being inevitable no matter how they played this game. He was happy it went how it had. 

“The way your father spoke to me. He made me feel like I was a part of the family. Almost like a son in law.” For that moment of silence that hung over them, Oliver imagined what it would have been like if that was the case. He didn’t think about it for too long, it hurt too much. “you’re so lucky. My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility.” At this point, Oliver didn’t give a shit if June was listening and could piece together what was happening. He needed Elio to know that he had a support system. That even though he was never going to be what he should have been for Elio, that he had people. He had people that he could lean on, and Oliver wanted him to do that. The worst thing in the world would have been if Elio squirreled himself away with his music or a book or with silence. Oliver knew he had the capability of doing that to himself and he couldn’t on good conscience let that happen. 

“Elio?” No. Please no. Oliver prayed that Elio would have let this wound heal. Let it scar in its place. In its rightful place in Italy where it belonged. Not to drag it back. Their beautiful, magical secret was dirtied now. Oliver couldn’t be mad, though. Because it was his fault. “Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio…” Elio was whispering. Like he was shouting into a void that couldn’t handle the noise. A prayer to nothing. Oliver felt his knees buckle, and he sank down to the floor in front of the chair. He could see everything that had happened over the summer in a slideshow. It was then that he realized: he would never forget a single moment of the summer for as long as he lived. 

“Oliver.” He could feel Elio relax after he said that. As if Elio had believed that somehow, Oliver had forgotten this thing that they had. This magical connection that was unspoken but vocalized in other ways. Oliver felt like the scum of the earth. “I remember everything.” He tried to say it all without saying too much. He couldn’t sum up how he was feeling over the phone. This was his best effort. 

Elio didn’t say goodbye. Neither did Oliver. It would have been too much, too final. Instead, Oliver listened to Elio breathe on the phone until it was clear that Elio had had enough. There was so much that Oliver wanted to say that he just couldn’t. He wanted to tell Elio that he was going to jump on the first flight back to Italy, but that was impossible.

He wanted to promise Elio the moon, but he couldn’t even guarantee the stars. Elio eventually was the one to hang up. Oliver needed to give him that. He felt it happening because there was movement, and he could hear the beginning of classical music again. He was putting his headphones back on. Oliver prayed for the first time in years. He prayed that Elio was going to be okay. He could have cared less about himself. He needed Elio to be okay. 

Oliver sat with the dial tone for as long as he could. This was all he had left of Elio. The ghost of a phone call. The hazy after-glow of what could have been. Elio had his family, and Oliver was thankful for that. 

Oliver watched the embers of the fireplace go down. He sat, staring at them, hoping they would provide answers. He wondered what Elio was doing. If there was any world where they were doing the exact same thing. As if, if he looked hard enough, he would see Elio through the dying fire. He heard a bell in the distance. For a moment, he thought he was hearing Mafalda ring the dinner bell, all the way from Italy, but when he had the wherewithal to turn around, he saw that June was in an apron, looking straight out of the fifties, with a dinner bell in her hand. Oliver stood up from the fireplace, leaving his Elio behind to fade away with the dying logs. He hoped that this wasn’t forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i made myself emotional as all hell writing this, if it makes anyone feel better. 
> 
> if anyone has any ideas where oliver wouldn't be sad of a scene i should do pls feel free to suggest. if you want me to suffer for this, trust me, i already have. i'm sorry i am like this 
> 
> tumblr is @/lilchalamet

**Author's Note:**

> comment if you want other scenes from Oliver's POV, etc  
> my tumblr is @/lilchalamet if you want to talk to me there


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